The province engurgitates you with her dizzy thirst
|
Day after day in the slime of the lost seconds
|
And when the time screams and you have no place to
hide
|
The bloody beast catches and steals you.
|
Like locust egg you erupt into a field,
|
Like locust egg you politely injure
|
The statue of a plain and the lively flame
|
Of man soled on mercantile doings.
|
Clothed in algae that decayed the day before
yesterday,
|
The province sticks to people like a glue
|
It has you bended with a dime in pokets,
|
And the filthy green elapses in your eyes.
|
Republic of terror with dust full of dilemmas,
|
To pass or to walk into the hard routine,
|
A moment of tension, a year for curses
|
On the stereotype scale of “to exist”.
|
Poem with compromises, the rheumatism stubs you
|
In the foot implanted into your meat hunger
|
And if it asks your head or bones it wants to crush
you,
|
The depleted province sells your fatalism.
|
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